Asterion
by Tamer Lorika
Summary: Turkey has been dominating Japan's attention, and Greece is viciously jealous. He will admit it, and he will play the part of Theseus so that this does not become a tragedy. For Canada-chan.


**Well, HELLO. I'm pushing the time limit with this thing, aren't I ? Its for Canada-chan, in an exchange. She (?) finished hers AGES ago – its called "Shaking and Rumbling" and is ridiculously adorable and I'm SO SORRY this didn't get done before now, but I hope it's worth it. Really. BECAUSE YOU ARE AMAZING CANADA-CHAN**

**Cultural note! In Greece, extending your hand with the palm out (as if to signal someone to stop) can be seen as really offensive. :3 Good to know.**

**Oh yeah, one thing – Umm... I don't understand this. At all. I'm hoping maybe you guys get what I'm trying to get across here, but if you don't it might seem abrupt and I'm so sorry but that is the way the story wanted to go so that's the way it is. **

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Clear light spilled in from the high, thin windows of the meeting room, taunting him with the promise of a warm breeze, of the smell of blowing leaves or dusty earth. No breeze entered here, the kingdom of clinical authority and harsh white lights, kingdom of fluorescence and modernity. Greece closed his eyes, fighting a slight headache, willing all of it to go away. He wasn't used to a world like this, the strict order and immense hurry. He wished that he was home, reclining in the arms of his mother, away from the bickering and the fighting and the shame.

Another world meeting. Hours of sleep without rest.

"… for god's sake, will someone please wake Greece?"

A nasally, British voice speared his carefully constructed unconsciousness. Herakles wrinkled his forehead, attempting to regain some sense of immutability.

A small, cool hand laid itself on his forearm. Greece felt it through his coat; he'd know the touch anywhere.

"Herakles-san, Arthur is requesting that you wake." The soft voice was apologetic, gentle. Herakles allowed his eyes to slowly open, blinking blearily in the office lights. He smiled slowly, like the flow of warm honey at his own personal breath of fresh air.

"Of course… Kiku…" he mumbled, relishing in the surprise in the man's gaze as they locked eyes. "I've been awake… this whole time." He had been. The room had been too large, too echoing and artificial, for him to even doze.

Arthur, watching the exchange from the podium, sniffed in an entirely unconvinced manner. "Well, now that I have _everyone's_ attention –"

"Ve~~ Doitsu, its twelve thirty already! I'm hungry and my tummy is mumbling something at me and I want pasta!" Feliciano whined. Lazily, Herakles checked the clock. The boy was right. It was exactly twelve-thirty.

Ludwig, the butt of the complaints, also checked the clock. He looked down at the whining Italian. He looked up at the irate Brit. Then back at the Italian. He sighed.

"This meeting is dismissed for lunch," he muttered in defeat.

The room cleared almost immediately, Arthur following Ludwig out and complaining loudly about how he was _not_, in fact, in charge, no matter how loud his voice was. Herakles watched the rush of humanity – for they _were_ human, though only in spirit – as eager to leave this place as he was. But he didn't move. He was waiting for something.

"Herakles-san?"

Kiku hadn't moved from his place beside the Greek, staring at him with a strange, turbulent expression. No one else would have noticed it; the variations in Kiku's gaze, the subtle shifts of emotion, but Herakles did. He noticed everything. He noticed that Kiku's hand was still on his forearm, and it was warming, slightly.

"Herakles-san, are you alright?"

The smile hadn't faded from his face. "Yes. Just… thinking." There was a long pause, as Herakles steeled himself. "Would you… like to join me for lunch…?"

Kiku flushed brightly. "I would love to –"

Herakles' smile brightened.

"- but –"

"Oi, Kiku, coming or not?"

A very familiar voice cracked in from the doorway. Herakles tensed in a way only one nation could cause. Sadiq was leaning against the doorjamb.

"Yes, Sadiq-san. I was just waking Herakles." The man turned back to his friend. "I already promised Sadiq-san that we would go to lunch together. But perhaps you would like to join us – ?"

Herakles blinked, eyes drifting between the nation he liked the least and the one who made him want to stay awake forever. The options were even – spend a miserable lunch hour alone somewhere, or a miserable one with Sadiq. But… if Kiku was there… He opened his mouth to accept the invitation.

"Aww, Kiku!" Sadiq cut in with a whine. "You promised it would be just you and me. You _promised_, remember?"

Kiku flushed, caught. "I… I did, Sadiq-san, but I don't wish to be rude and –"

"Its not rude; its honoring an earlier obligation!" the Turk interrupted. Again. He bounded over to the Japanese nation, grabbing his arm and beginning to drag him away forcibly. "Herakles understands, don't ya, Herc?" He grinned triumphantly over his shoulder at the slumped Mediterranean nation. Herakles extended his palm in a gesture that, to westerners, meant "stop", but turned it into a little wave when Kiku also turned to look at him. His smile was fading, but he managed to keep a small quirk in his lips.

"Go on…" he said. "I … understand…" He lay his head down on the desk, turned away from the two, the mess of contradiction, and waited for them to leave him in peace. Such a wish was granted swiftly.

His eyes were wide open, staring at the mass of glass on the other side of the room, the window that takes up an entire wall, a huge, moving portrait of skyline. His mind wandered

This wasn't the first time that Sadiq has dominated Kiku's attention. It seemed that at every meeting, there was a new distraction, a new wedge slipping between them – Sadiq pulling him aside at breaks, starting long, inane conversations at every convenience. He was trying to keep Kiku for himself. He was succeeding.

An acid taste coated Herakles' teeth, and he had no illusions that it was anything but jealousy. He was jealous because he wanted Kiku to be his. He would not deny it. He could not.

Of course he loved Kiku. It was as natural to him as breathing.

_In. Out. In. Out_.

Breathing.

Herakles didn't notice that his chest rose in uneven gasps until he was coughing for air. Puzzled, he laid a hand over his own chest, feeling his heart pump rapidly against his fingers. Jealousy. A harsh and painful mistress, a plague from Pandora, a box he shouldn't open.

He had considered telling Kiku the truth. He wanted to. His whole being ached to. Insecurity, of course, sat on his ribs with a devilish smirk, but the sole thing, truly, keeping him from revealing the contents of his mind was the presence of a _certain_ Turk who had been crowding Herakles out since Herakles recognized his deep affection. How Sadiq knew when the two were alone, when Herakles was steeling his lazy tongue to drip out words of devotion, was beyond him. All he knew was he could not confess now; at least, not until he, and the dark-eyed wraith that he watched instead of dreaming, were alone.

Herakles' eyes flicked to the clock. It was one-fourteen, and lunch would end at one-thirty. He supposed he should get something to eat, if only to keep him awake throughout the rest of the meeting. He knew that was useless, of course, but the quest for food kept him distracted. Adjusting his beret, he slipped from the meeting room and into the mess of violet-grey carpeted hallways.

He fancied himself in a maze, Daedalus' modern torment. He was after a minotaur, he thought, dream-like. It was him, with a knife and a ball of golden thread, against a monster, ready to rescue its captives. With each step, he grew more determined. Fire. That was not something he had felt for a long, long time. Desire. His boots pounded against the floor. He knew he was lost in this modern high-rise but it only served to fuel his imagination, his jealousy-plagued mind. He would slay the monster, one way or another. Rescue. Revelation.

"W-wait!"

Herakles slowed, blinked. The voice was familiar; he trolled his daydreams for the source, but it came again, an outsider. Kiku was here, somewhere in this mess of halls. He turned his head, as if he could locate the nation, but he was alone.

"Wait!" the voice came again and Herakles detected a note of suppressed shudder, as if he could feel the body under his own palms. "Sadiq, I don't want –"

"Sure you do!" the man said cheerfully. "You just don't know it yet."

They were off in the next bend of the hallway. Herakles could smell the Turk's oily voice from a long way off. It was a survival technique. He crept along, unsure of what he was to find, unsure if he wanted to find anything at all.

It shot across his gaze, anyway, the image: a deserted hallway, the stale scent of tombs – no, just air conditioning – the minotaur Turk and his lovely prize, pressed against the walls of his maze. The damsel had his hands firmly against the monster's chest, glaring.

"I do not. Please, Sadiq-san. I am fine being friends with you, but I don't feel this way."

The look in the monster's eyes could almost be human, could almost be disappointed, regretful.

"You like someone else, don't you? Don't look surprised, it's pretty obvious." The words slid out slickly from a bull's lips.

"I – I don't – its really none of your business!" The bull just stared, eyes on fire.

"I don't care."

The monster's victim began to shake as he drew closer. Herakles could see his hot breath ruffle fine, black bangs that he ached to touch and brush away from a sweat-slicked brow.

"You might like him but Kiku, I _love_ you. Right? See? Just…" The damsel wrenched his face away from the beast, closing off, shutting down. "Just one kiss. Please."

"No, I told you –" But the beast was tired of games, and hungry, and his teeth gleamed in the eerie green fluorescent light and the captive struggled but he was held firmly, a knee dug between his legs, fleshy bovine lips muffling his cries.

Herakles struck. He had no Aegean sword but he had a powerful fist and he had raw fury and he swung his arm and it cracked into a jawbone. Sadiq's head reeled, but he still had Kiku firmly in his grasp. Growling, Herakles grabbed the man's arm, jerking it behind his back, twisting it, forcing him to let go of his prize.

"Let go."

It was a sharp hiss. Herakles took a handful of curly, earth-black hair, yanking Sadiq's head backwards. Sadiq's face was a grimace of regret, but there was no pain there. No physical pain.

"Hercules, your hero, is here to save you," the Turk gritted through his teeth. His tone was mocking. Herakles wondered how he could yet pull that off. He didn't much care. He pushed Sadiq into the opposite wall, then turned and stared at Kiku.

"You should…go back… to the meeting room," he said quietly. He did not meet the nation's eyes, but stared at a spot on his white, blank collarbone.

Kiku's gaze flashed to Sadiq. Herakles felt his stomach churn. There was worry there. Apology. Regret.

"Come with me."

Herakles nodded. He kicked Sadiq in the shin. Sadiq only glared back, antagonism and agony on his face. Herakles put his arm around Kiku's shoulder and led him back through the hall. Maybe he wasn't so lost in this labyrinth after all.

Kiku shyly looked up at Herakles through his eyelashes. Herakles looked back at him, knowing what was coming. He had known it all along. But it had not been important before. They were what they were, their relationship stable. It had not mattered what they said or what their label or who they were to each other. It had just mattered that they _were._

But now, Herakles realized, was the time to change. A new warp thread, or a new weave. He wanted possession. Like nothing before, he wanted possession. Kiku wanted protection. They wanted each other and today showed them both it could not wait any longer.

"Thank you." Kiku said simply.

"I love you," replied Herakles. They both meant the same thing. He leaned down.

They kissed in the harsh hall light. It tasted of gold thread, leading them home.

"I should not have waited so long to say that," Herakles mused aloud when they broke.

Kiku only drew in a shaky breath. He took Herakles' hand. Together, they walked back to the meeting room.


End file.
